


blink and you'll miss me

by orphan_account



Series: girl meets parasite [1]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Gen, Okoye Cameo, Peter Parker cameo - Freeform, Possession, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Wakanda (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24741379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "It’s not so much losing time as it is surrendering to it.On many occasions, she’s found herself frustrated, restricted by the too short hours in the day, wishing for more. On others, she’s found herself anxious, eagerly awaiting an event that couldn’t come fast enough.Now. Now she has no concept of time. Because now she comes and goes, like the tide, receding back into the sea of her subconsciousness.It is a terrifying notion. But also quite comforting.". . .Girl meets parasite.
Relationships: Shuri & Venom Symbiote
Series: girl meets parasite [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789063
Kudos: 1





	blink and you'll miss me

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooooo this has been sitting in for drafts for eighty-four years, and I'm legit so happy to finally be posting this. I have a longfic in mind, but it's gonna be a minute before I post it, so in the meantime, I'm gonna be working on a three-part series to flesh out that longfic, starting with this one. Next fic's gonna be from Okoye's perspective, with Okoye basically going wtf the entire time, so I'm looking forward to putting that out.  
> As always, I think it goes without saying that I'm not at all a science person, so if something doesn't make even the slightest bit of sense, just bare with me lol, I promise I'm giving this my all.  
> Aaaaaaand in terms of motivation, I guess I wrote this because I love Shuri, and I love Venom, and I really wanted to see them interacting.

When the specimen first crashlands just a few miles shy of the border, Shuri is among the few allowed to conduct experiments.

Of course, the more qualified, more experienced of the group exercise their seniority, a fact which never ceases to make Shuri grit her teeth to keep her tongue from lashing out. She likes to consider herself quite understanding. She’s well aware that her age and relation to the throne puts her at something of a disadvantage and has always worked to never let them be her undoing. It’s widely known that child prodigies often trip over themselves, strangled to death by their own hubris or insecurity. For years, it’s been a balance Shuri’s had trouble managing in the past but lately, it seemed she’d found her footing.

So it’s odd, to be standing here, waiting “patiently” for her turn at the specimen and finding an almost scorching indignation simmering beneath her skin.

One of her colleagues, Kamali, crawls up from the crash-site, seeming particularly annoyed. Pushing down the almost overwhelming urge to preen, Shuri rises to her feet, dusts the sand off herself, and approaches the woman. “Is something wrong?”

Kamali just waves Shuri off, sighing as she pulls her phone out of her pocket, typing away as she mutters, “It’s a dead rock”. She waves the carbon-reader at Shuri before brusquely tossing it back to her. “Piece of thin must have a short circuit.”

Shuri just pulls a face, staring, puzzled, at the readings. Just an hour ago, they’d showed promising signs of possible life, but now, the screen is blank. “It’s always worked fine before”, she protests, falling into a hurried pace as she struggles to catch up with Kamali.

Kamali just shakes her head, calling out over her shoulder, “It’s never been used with extra-terrestrial objects before either”.

...Okay, maybe not, but the point is it shouldn’t matter whether or not the rock is of earth. True enough, it is sort of startling to see the screen blank, but that could be for a number of reasons. Carbon’s the building block of life and all that jazz, but there are a few exceptions. This could be one of them.

In any case, it seems like a dumb reason to be dismissive of the reader. But Kamali’s got “bigger, better” projects going on at the moment, so it isn’t exactly surprising that she’d grasp at whatever excuse to get back to them.

It would annoy Shuri, but truth be told, she gets it. She’s been shackled with projects before, pulled away from endeavors she felt more worthy of her attention. In the end, she’d wound up severely distracted, and all her efforts suffered for it. So if Kamali thinks her time is better spent elsewhere, well, who is she to judge her?

Abayomi climbs out of the site next, nodding curtly in Shuri’s direction before following in Kamali’s stead. This leaves Shuri alone, finally able to conduct her own experiments, though, somehow, she doesn’t feel quite as eager as she had been when she’d first received news of the meteorite’s crashing.

She lifts her wrist to her mouth, beginning the glide down into the pit. “Call Peter”, she says into her kimoyo beads, finding her attention skewed as her carbon-reader begins to beep frantically. “Tell him to meet me in my lab afterwards. Bar admission to anyone not of High Priority.”

“Will do”, Fundiswa responds in monotone, beeping offline as Shuri approaches the center of the crater.

She’s never seen a meteorite. Not in real-life and certainly not this up-close. And though she hadn’t cared for the attitude, it’s true that her carbon-reader has never seen one either. It’s why, when it ceases in its beeping, Shuri finds herself growing ever more curious. She kneels, braids tickling her shoulders as she stares out at a cavity in the meteorite. 

_ Come on. I know you’re not useless _ , Shuri thinks, giving the carbon-reader a gentle smack. She’d designed it herself, had it test-runned to hell and back, and it’s been in use for a year now. She  _ knows _ it works. She lifts a hand, holds it before the divet, and the reader just about shrieks.

_ There we go _ , she thinks, unwilling to suppress her grin. Shuri reaches into her purse and pulls out a device the size of her hand, unassuming in nature but capable of containing even the most acidic of materials. She holds it before the cavity, reaching for a scalpel to scoop it in, only to stare in disbelief at the gurgle the cavity gives before belching out an oozing, black liquid, spilling lazily into the bowl-shaped device beneath it.

“Huh”, Shuri says, a lid clapsing over the bowl with a sharp hiss. “Isn’t that convenient.” The liquid doesn’t respond. 

Not that she’d expected it to.

. . .

“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?”, Shuri breathes to Okoye, who merely watches Shuri poke and prod at the specimen with fondness. She knows she can get quite lost in her scientific ramblings sometimes, but Okoye never seems to mind.

“It’s certainly something”, Okoye chuckles, leaning against her staff. “I bet you’re glad you waited until everyone had gone, aren’t you?”

Well, never let it be said that Shuri isn’t one for competition, but in this case, yes, she is quite happy she waited. She still doesn’t quite understand why the specimen had reacted to her in a way it hadn’t to the others, but, then again, that’s what experimenting’s for, isn’t it?

“I didn’t exactly have a choice”, Shuri retorts, rolling her eyes. “They’re not a very friendly sort.”

Okoye just watches her softly, then says, “They just need time”.

Yeah, that’s what everyone says. Shuri stopped believing them some years ago, after hearing Abayomi badmouth her over his kimoyo beads. It doesn’t help to get your hopes up about odds improbable to the point of nonexistence. 

Besides, they’re just colleagues. Shuri knows who her true allies, her true friends are. People like Okoye, who’s been around since longer than Shuri can even remember, they’re the ones she turns to when her back’s against the wall or she just wants someone to talk to when the rest of the Palace is asleep.

Or someone who’ll listen to her blab about her bitchy colleagues and tell her about all the wild shit she gets up to whilst handling official Dora business.

_ Thank you for being here _ , Shuri wants to say, staring absentmindedly at the convulsing specimen before her. Most days, the Palace feels far too large for her liking. Her brother’s usually off, on some business or another, her mother tending to whatever royal duties he’s unable to, and her father…

Anyway.

Ever since she was a child, Okoye’s been there, always willing to listen or to offer conversation. Logically, she knows the bond isn’t nearly as deep as it is to Okoye. Afterall, she pledged herself to T’Challa, and Shuri’s just the child Okoye had been left to babysit when her family was too busy to look after her themselves. But even still, it’s nice to know that she’s there, that, through obligation or not, there will always be someone she can turn to to rant about her latest experiment. Someone to make the loneliness abate, even if for just a moment.

So yeah. What she wants to say is  _ Thank you, for never leaving me to myself _ . Instead she just says, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

And if Shuri thinks there’s something pleasant, something fond behind Okoye’s smile, she doesn’t allow herself to linger on it.

A short while later, Okoye leaves, her kimoyo beads trilling as she files out the room, and the lab is silent. It’s both a comfort and a nuisance. “Fundiswa, put on my playlist”, she calls out to the room, surrounded, moments later, by the soft thrumming of a Kenyan song pulsing around her. With a sigh, Shuri takes a seat on a wheely-chair, drooping pleasantly against the back cushion as she stares at the bowl-device in her lap.

“What are you?”, she wonders aloud, her head cocked to the side. She taps the sides of the bowl, watching as it opens to reveal the strange substance waiting inside. Shuri bites her lip, pulling on a pair of gloves, a face mask, and some safety-goggles. Her lawsuit is already in place, but all the same, she still can’t help but feeling...queasy.

“All right”, Shuri murmurs, lifting a syringe of water. “We’re just going to run a few exposure tests. How’s that sound?” Oddly enough, the substance quivers, as if in response, and she nods to herself, making a note of “Possible signs of sentience” as she brings the syringe closer, only to startle as the specimen suddenly lunges out at her.

“Possible signs of sentience”, Shuri corrects, panting as she brings the syringe close to her chest. The specimen gurgles, its mass smoothing back out, but it doesn’t retreat. Shuri presses her lips together, then lifts a test tube out of the rack and holds it out to the specimen, who, after a moment of apparent scrutiny, reaches out to press up against it.

After several other rounds of careful exposure, she observes, “Doesn’t seem to be acidic or toxic”. It’s still too early to rule out any signs of danger, but she isn’t willing to part with the specimen just yet. Not after what she’s seen. 

_ Peter _ , Shuri thinks, beaming as the specimen carefully places the test tube back in its rack.  _ You don’t know what you’re missing out on. _

The specimen rises from its capsule, standing almost at Shuri’s height. She just raises an eyebrow, staring pointedly at the specimen. When she taps the button to close the capsule, it remains open. And the specimen is still standing.

_ Weird _ , Shuri decides, not removing her eyes from the specimen.  _ That’s really fucking weird. _

She’s just taken a step back, wary of turning her back to it, when the specimen suddenly expands and surges, consuming her body with hardly any effort at all.

Funnily enough, her first thought is embarrassment. Someone’s gonna come along and find her, and then she’s gonna get the scolding of a lifetime. Why didn’t you have Dora on guard? Why didn’t you inform the bio-department of the team? Why didn’t you take better safety precautions?

That lasts for about a second, though, with her thoughts quickly spiralling to a peaceful nothingness, the bright lights of the lab dimming until there’s nothing but black as far as she can see.

When she next blinks, it’s as if nothing had happened, the bowl neatly closed and the specimen safely tucked away. Shuri idly scratches at the inside of her wrist, startling as a hand lands upon her shoulder.

“Shuri?”, Peter asks, and Shuri takes a moment to wonder just when he’d gotten here. Judging by his lab suit and safety gear, she’d wager a pretty moment. “Where’s the specimen?”

She just frowns, then averts her gaze to where the capsule sits upon the table. “What are you talking about, it’s right...here.” She falters, staring at the empty confines of the bowl.

_ Well, shit. _

It’d been there a moment ago. Or at least, she’s almost certain it had been. Her head’s a little fuzzy, but she distinctly remembers placing it in that bowl and bringing it back here for further examination.

She’s about to tell Peter so when her gaze drops to the inside of her wrist, where a splotch of ink has bled from the surrounding brown. When she goes to scream, Shuri finds her voice is missing, nothing but air escaping her mouth as the spot stretches out and leaps onto the back of Peter’s neck. He yelps, hand going to slap at the spot, then turns around, eyes narrowed as he drawls, “Very funny, Shuri”. He shakes his head, then turns to look back at the bowl. “Now, where’s the specimen?”

“Uh...I need to get clearance from the Department before I can show it to you”, she offers lamely, and Peter nods, scooting back and forward in his wheely chair. “We can work on...on something else until then.”

Peter pulls his phone out of his pocket, then suggests, “Mario Kart?”

“Mario Kart”, she agrees breathily. She’s good at Mario Kart, has even installed a few mods that’ve, admittedly, gotten her kicked out of a good number of rooms. It’ll take her mind off...off whatever that was.

That and the rash on her wrist.

“Prepare to be destroyed”, Peter’s saying, and it’s then that Shuri realizes they’re already two laps in, and she’s in seventh place.

_ This is fine _ , Shuri tells herself, a smirk easily blooming when she quickly leaps up to third place.  _ It’s not weird at all. _

. . .

It’s not so much losing time as it is surrendering to it.

On many occasions, she’s found herself frustrated, restricted by the too short hours in the day, wishing for more. On others, she’s found herself anxious, eagerly awaiting an event that couldn’t come fast enough.

Now. Now she has no concept of time. Because now she comes and goes, like the tide, receding back into the sea of her subconsciousness.

It is a terrifying notion. But also quite comforting.

And then there’s the quiet. The quiet which never ceases to unnerve her, even in the midst of a gala or a department meeting or dinner with her mother. Shuri sits there, feeling horribly weighted underneath the weight of it, like she’s been buried underneath five miles of sand. There is no comfort to be found here, just a longing, although for what, she knows not.

These are strange times. Strange times, indeed.

“I don’t know what to tell you”, Dr. Obiero says, rising up to her full height. She removes the gloves from her hands, dropping them into a disposable bin before turning back to look at Shuri. “You’re in perfect health.”

“Really?”, Shuri asks, deflating somewhat as Dr. Obiero sets aside her stethoscope. 

She just looks at Shuri out of the corner of her eye and chuckles lightly. “Of course, you could practice better sleep hygiene.” When Shuri neglects a reply, her smile thins out, and she turns to give Shuri her full attention. “Why?”, she asks, taking a seat in the chair before the examination bed. “Do you think something’s wrong?”

No.

...Yes? Yes.

No, no, she’s being stupid.

But maybe there is. Maybe something’s-

_ Maybe nothing’s wrong. _

“I don’t know”, Shuri admits and feels teeth grating against the underside of her skin. She grits past it, feeling suddenly very warm and very uncertain, and murmurs, “I just feel...weird”.

Dr. Obiero nods, watching her intently. She drapes one leg over the other, then prompts, “Weird like…”.

“Mood swings”, she supplies tiredly. Doesn’t quite do it justice, she’ll admit. Mood swings is what she had when she was fourteen and struggling underneath the weight of being the youngest person to join Wakanda’s Design Group. Mood swings is what she had when she had her first crush. Mood swings is what she had when she suddenly had the entire Palace to herself after her father’s death. 

Whatever... _ this _ ...is, it’s something completely different. Strong enough to snatch her from her deepest sleep and send an invading rage throughout her like a virus. Or drape a blanket of sadness over her, just enough to make her relinquish control for a while. Or prick her with paranoia, the kind that makes her suspect even her shadow.

“Well, you are still growing”, the doctor says calmly. “It’s to be expected-” 

“And blackouts”, Shuri cuts in because, you know, that seems worth mentioning. Although, from the splitting headache that immediately blinds her, maybe it wasn’t.

“...Blackouts?” Dr. Obiero raises her eyebrows. “Periods of lost time, is that what you mean?”

_ No. _ “Yes.” It pains her to admit it, and, already, she feels herself sleeping, feels the telltale sign of everything disappearing. Against everything, she remains conscious. 

“I see.” Dr. Obiero rises to her feet, moving to navigate her shelves. “Have you been drinking? Using drugs, prescribed or otherwise?” 

“Uh, no.” Shuri rubs at her eyes and sighs heavily. Bast, she’s tired. After this, maybe she’ll go have a nap, lie down and just shut her eyes for a while, block out the world. “I might’ve had some wine but not enough to blackout.” 

Dr Obiero nods, returning with a notepad of prescriptions in hand. “Can you give me specifics?”

“I dunno.” She thinks back to the gala the night before and shakes her head. Her memory is, admittedly, a little fuzzy, but it couldn't have been the drink. “A glass. Momma wouldn’t let me have more.” That, she remembers vividly. They’d had quite an argument about it, one which had, to her embarrassment, drawn the attention of several nearby Dora. She hadn’t known why she’d gotten so upset. She just...the wine had been really sweet. 

And her mother had gotten in the way.

“I see. Anything else?” 

“A sweet tooth”, she offers quietly, a shudder ascending her spine as the words drift past her lips. There’s a moment where Dr Obiero is silent, flipping through her notepad before settling upon a page. “Can you remember when this all started?” 

Shuri goes to answer, only to falter as the exact date flashes behind her eyelids like a projector screen. It’d been the fifth of the month, the day her initial testing of the specimen had begun. It was a weird day, although she can’t quite remember why.

“Shuri?”, Dr Obiero says softly, drawing her attention back to the question.

Shuri shakes her head. “Uh. About a month ago. Peter and I, we’d just started working on a new project.” 

“From the meteorite site”, she guesses, setting her notepad down on her lap. She brushes her braids over her shoulder and cocks her head to the side, eyes rich with worry. “You weren’t exposed to anything, were you?”

Well, of course she...of course, she wasn’t. She can’t quite remember what happened after she journeyed into the crater, just that after she and Peter had finished their initial findings, she’d advised her brother to declare it off limits to anyone aside from herself. Which, okay, sure, that does sound sketchy as all hell, but that doesn’t mean anything weird.

Does it?

_ No. _

Right. Of course, it doesn’t. What was she thinking.

“No”, Shuri replies, clearing her throat. “We were careful. There’s no risk of contagion.” 

Dr Obiero eyes her oddly before passing the prescription over to her. “I’d advise talking this over with your mother”, she informs her pointedly. “That should take care of the mood swings, but medication for blackouts is...it’s not something I’m comfortable prescribing without knowing what exactly is causing them.”

“Of course”, Shur says, rising to her feet. She ignores the wave of vertigo that swarms her, smiling smally at her doctor. “Thank you for seeing me.”

She just smiles back warmly in her direction. “I mean it. I know you’re legally an independent now, but it wouldn’t hurt to talk this over with her.”   
Shuri just rolls her eyes. “I don’t need my mother to hold my hand for shots, doctor.”

Dr Obiero just snorts, then says, “I was thinking she could tell you if there’s a history of blackouts in the family, but emotional support is nothing to scoff over either”.

Oh. Yeah, that, that actually could be helpful, if Shuri hadn’t sworn off telling her mother about this. She loves her, but, Bast, after everything that’s happened, the last thing she wants is to cause her worry over something that might not be anything. 

_ We don’t need to tell mother _ , she thinks with a sudden, desperate ferocity that leaves her nearly breathless. Grabbing hold of the back of a chair, Shuri breathes in deeply, once, then twice, then lets it go like the winds over Mount Bashenga. 

“We’ll have a follow-up on Thursday”, Dr Obiero says, but by then, Shuri’s already darted out the door and lost all meaning of time once more.

It’s a little while later, an hour or a day, when she finds herself at the meteorite site. It’s raining, the first it’s done in weeks. Droughts are always meddlesome, but today, she relishes in the feel of the rain, leaning her head back and breathing like it’s the first time she’s done so in ages. 

Then she turns to her left, and, there, looking just as dazed as she feels, is Peter. “Hey, Pooh Bear”, she greets softly.

She feels comfortable around him, in a way that she hasn’t been since she took that first sample. Faintly, she registers the feeling of something oozing across her back, but it’s not as disturbing as she’d think it’d be. On the contrary, it actually feels quite nice.

“Hey, Shuri”, Peter returns, and it’s then that Shuri notices he has his phone. 

How easy would it be, she wonders, with a panic she doesn’t understand, to call someone,  _ anyone _ , and ask them for help. 

But Shuri doesn’t need help, doesn’t even know what prompted such a thought. So she turns her nose up, then says, incredulous, “TikTok?”

“I’ve mourned long enough”, he retorts with a half-hearted shrug.

A quiet befalls them, and Shuri joins him on the ground, staring down into the crater. Warning tape has been set up around them, with only they, T’Challa, and a handful of Wakandan scientists, allowed admittance. Oddly enough, despite all the warning bells that would normally go off in her head, Shuri feels herself feeling quite safe. Like she’s at home.

Her actual home, the Palace, hasn’t felt like home in a while if she’s being honest. Even before the site discovery, even before they all got brought back. But here. Here she feels comfortable. Content.

_ Safe _ , the voice in her head repeats, and Shuri startles because that...that wasn’t her.

“Hey, Pete.” Twiddling her thumbs, she turns her gaze from the crater to Peter. He looks so calm despite the tar-like material seeping from his pores. Is that how she looks? “Do you feel…” Her voice is muddied in her ears, like she’s listening in on someone else from under water. “Are you all right?"

For a moment, Peter just stares at her, his eyes blank. Then, just when Shuri’s begun to feel the telltale sign of time going all weird again, Peter blinks, shaking his head as he frowns at her. “I guess. A little sleepy, maybe”.

_ Sleepy _ , the voice hisses/croons in her ear.  _ We are very sleepy, too. We should go lie down. _

_ I...I don’t think that’s a good idea _ , Shuri objects, but her eyelids are growing heavy, and her brain feels like pudding.

Peter says something, his eyes first alight with amusement, then else, the words tinted with worry. As she stares, she feels her sense of awareness flare up like a firework in the night sky and finds horror settling deep within her bones at the sight of the specimen before her. It’s a flicker of a feeling, a “blink and you’ll miss your life being torn away from you” kind of feeling. The kind that seems to scream “Run!”. But it only doesn’t so much because in the next moment, the voice in her head is humming to her, a discordant symphony of clashing notes that nonetheless drags her back into peacefulness. The sight of the specimen coiled so tightly, intricately, around Peter isn’t any more disturbing than the feeling of her own wrapped around her.

_ They are your friend _ , the voice whispers to her, insistent, impatient.  _ You should not worry about them. _

Right. Right, Peter’s obviously fine. She’s obviously fine. She just...she just needs to sleep.

_ Yes. Yes, sleep would be  _ **_very_ ** _ good. _

Yes.

Her kimoyo beads trill, and Shuri sits there, staring blankly down at them before accepting their call.

It’s Okoye. She doesn’t know why that puts her on edge.

“Shuri”, she begins, faltering at something in Shuri’s expression. “I...is everything all right?”   
“Yes, yes, I’m just busy”, she replies, with an impatience she doesn’t recognize. Just moments prior, she’d been content to lie down and sleep, and now she feels pent up with energy, eager to do something, anything, to get out of this conversation.

“We’re just hanging out”, Peter supplies when Shuri’s yet to offer any further response.

“You two’ve been spending a lot of time at the meteorite site”, Okoye notes pointedly. “Perhaps, you should-”   
Something bitter and acidic rises up in Shuri’s chest, and, before she can stop it, she says, “Okoye, if you don’t mind, Peter and I have rather pressing matters to attend to”. Not awaiting a response, she then swipes a hand through her beads, effectively ending the call.

Out of the corner of her eye, Shuri can see Peter, or something very close to Peter, watching her. His specimen is spreading over him again, and Peter’s offering very little protest. “That was kinda weird”, he says with a breathless laugh.

“I’m feeling kinda weird”, she responds, and her stomach does flip-flops like she’s on a rollercoaster. But she isn’t on a rollercoaster. She’s just sitting here, with her friend, doing the work she loves. There’s nothing to worry about. She’s fine.

She is absolutely  **_fine_ ** .

“I feel weird, too.” He sounds confused. More than that, he sounds terrified. And for the life of her, Shuri can’t figure out why.

_ “Maybe we should, I dunno, see somebody about this?”  _ That’s what Peter had said, two days into their research, when he first realized they’d been contaminated. And Shuri had agreed, whole-heartedly but...she’d forgotten.

She seems to be doing a lot of that these days.

**_We should sleep._ **

“I think I should go to sleep”, Shuri murmurs, stretching her arms above her head. Bast, she doesn’t know why she feels so tired all the time, anymore than she knows why she’s always so hungry and snappish. She just knows that when she sleeps, the quiet becomes all the more bearable.

Her kimoyo beads are trilling again, and Peter’s saying...something, his voice sounding irritable. But Shuri’s eyes are fluttering, and though she’s yet to find her bed, she’s drifting, drifting, drifting away.

Time, she’s increasingly finding, has never been so kind.

**Author's Note:**

> One of these days, Imma write a Shuri fic that isn't just 😭😭😭 translated into words, I promise.  
> And that's all for now, folks! You can expect the next fic up sometime within the next month. 'Til then, let me know what you think and happy readings!


End file.
